


SS: Reunite.

by Honest_Signal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Reunions, keeping in mind terezi and jake only have like one or two lines lol, post-collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honest_Signal/pseuds/Honest_Signal
Summary: It’s been a while but it’s hard to forget such a sorry face.





	SS: Reunite.

Your name is SPADES SLICK. You are currently locked in MORTAL COMBAT with LORD ENGLISH, or at least some version of him. Whatever, it still works for your vengeance needs. Right now you have your GOLDEN CUESTAFF firmly locked around the neck of your English-looking doppelganger, who has Crowbar’s crowbar around the neck of some alien creature. Which is fine by you considering how that one and two others were rudely interrupting your revenge. You’ve got dibs on English.

Wait a minute here. One of them’s got a look on their face. You can’t see his eyes behind the round shades but you know what he’s about to do with that sword. You’d do it yourself if three fools ever lined themselves up so perfectly. But you’re no fool.

You pull a slick lean and duck the hell out of the way. Soon as you do, a sword flies over your head and decapitates the other two. Good riddance, though you’re upset you didn’t get to kill the boss. At least you gave him a right beating. That’s not even the real Lord English. No fancy overcoat. When you stand back up, you make eye contact with the alien in the red clothes. The thing frowns and another version of the same fleshbag knocks your CUESTAFF out of your hands. 

Before you can even complain, you’re someplace else entirely. Maybe a little bit of somewhen else too. You can feel the time bullshit in your black carapace. Where the fuck am I, you say. The red one says, hey robojack i know you probably dont know whats goin on but im gonna need you to chill out. The sunglasses alien seems to have some real respect issues. You pull out your trusty knife and oh my god that is a long sword. You promptly drop the knife. No problems here, you say.

You take a record of your surroundings. It’s just a big metal plate with an obnoxiously bright house. After a while some more alien kids arrive. Another troll girl to add to the other blind troll girl. You still don’t know who the aliens in the strange monocolor clothes are but you don’t really want to ask any of them. You try to surreptitiously retrieve your knife while everyone’s chatting each other up. It’s a rousing success.

The last group of adventurers on this clown car seem to arrive without warning in a green flash. Oh but you recognize one of them. You’d recognize those stubby horns and grey symbol on his shirt anywhere. It’s been a while but it’s hard to forget such a sorry face. He recognizes you too despite all the metal in your head and torso. HOLY SHIT IT’S ROBO JACK NOIR, he says in that shouty voice. You didn’t miss it.

Of course it’s me, you say. Who else would it be? I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE ONE OF THE OTHER ENDLESS TORRENT OF JACKS? It’s a fair point, but you’re not even Jack Noir. You tell him your name is Spades Slick. He says WHAT THE HELL KIND OF NAME IS THAT? You get real up close to him and introduce him to your current knife, the BAIT AND SWITCHBLADE. Out drips the old normal colored blood. He clutches the wound and shouts, I MISSED YOU TOO JACK. I REALLY MISSED THE FEELING AS YOUR KNIVES STABBED INTO MY GUT LIKE SOME SORT OF LIVING PINCUSHION. You tell him no problem. It’s been a while since you stabbed anybody.

WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE, he asks. That’s a dumb question, you say. You helped beat Lord English. You’re as much of a hero as all of these trolls and other aliens. And you’ve got a lot more style than colorful pajamas. DID DAVE BRING YOU HERE, he says. You don’t know any dames around here. He points to the red fellow with the round sunglasses. Yeah that guy brought you here.

DAVE, WHY DID YOU BRING ROBO JACK HERE?

1 W4S WOND3R1NG TH3 SAM3 TH1NG

hey slick was slick enough to dodge my sword. those are some wild moves you gotta admit

EVEN IF HE DID PULL OFF SOME AMAZING, ACROBATIC FUCKING PIROUETTE, WHY WOULD YOU BRING THE LITTLE CYBORG THAT STABBED TO THE VICTORY PLATFORM. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO TAKE HIM WITH US INTO THE NEW UNIVERSE?

thats up to him but sure

THAT’S FUCKING RETARDED.

You kindly point out it’s _not_ fucking retarded. With the point of your blade pressing up against the other side of his gut. Who did you beat, you say. You doubt he beat much of anyone with those sickles of his.  I ACTUALLY BEAT A TINY GREEN FUCKER WITH A ‘4’ ON HIS HAT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. Clover? That’s actually pretty impressive. You don’t say that out loud, but you give him a curt nod. The kid deserves that. For managing to live this long.

So who are all these aliens, you ask. And where is their sense of fashion? THESE ARE HUMANS, JA- SPADES. THEY’RE ACTUALLY LIKE TROLLS IN BEING FLESHY MEATBAGS BUT ACTUALLY NOTHING ELSE. THE ONE IN THE RED THAT BROUGHT YOU HERE IS *DAVE*. You say you didn’t ask about names. You just wanted to know what they were. They reminded you of the laptop in your WAR CHEST. You think you’ve solved a mystery that didn’t even need solving. JACK WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW? YOU GOT YOUR REVENGE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING.

You scratch the bottom of your chin with your knife. You suppose someone oughta keep the Felt in line. You look around the metal circle and notice a human in the absolute worst fashion you’ve ever seen. You shout, hey skinny legs. He seems to know exactly who you’re talking about and he slowly trudges over. Y-Yes? You ask him what happened to your gang. He seems to consider lying to you but his senses get the better of him. He says, Oh i got quite rowdy with them after you dropped them off! We got into a big bunch of fisticuffs wherein i ended up triumphant over most of them.

Good for nothing, just like you thought. You wave him back to the human/troll hullabaloo. You’ll go pick them up in a bit. For now, you turn your attention back to your stubby ex-partner in crime. More of an acquaintance. An enemy of my enemy type deal. He seems like he has a lot on the tip of his tongue so you tell him to spit it out.

He says SPADES I KNOW YOU PROBABLY COULDN’T GIVE A NIBBLE VERMIN’S ASS WHETHER OR NOT YOU SAW ME AGAIN. BUT IT’S NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, WITH YOUR STABBY ROUGH DERSITE ATTITUDE AND ALL. ESPECIALLY AFTER DEALING WITH FIFTY OTHER FUCKING JACKS.

You’ve been meaning to ask him about that. Or anyone, really. Not him specifically.

THE OTHER JACKS? WELL I ONLY REALLY SAW ONE, WHICH IS HONESTLY A FUCKING BLESSING. I NEED MORE JACKS LIKE I NEED GAPING HOLES IN MY GUT, WHICH IS TO SAY NOT AT ALL.

You’re about tired of his blubbering about the stab. It’s not even that bad. He lived through the first one. Which Jack did you see, you say.

THE PSYCHOPATH BARKFIEND OMNIPOJACK FROM THE HUMAN SESSION. WITH THE GREEN SUN POWERS AND WINGS AND SWORD THAT HANGS IN HIS TORSO LIKE HE’S HIS OWN PERSONAL ARMORY. You’re not familiar. OH YOU WOULD KNOW HIM IF YOU SAW HIM. HE HAD A QUEEN’S RING ON HIS HAND. BLEW UP ALL OF PROSPIT AND MY DREAMSELF ALONG WITH IT! GOOD THING I NEVER WANTED TO VISIT, APPARENTLY THAT WAS FUCKING NEVER HAPPENING.

A ring and blowing up Prospit, eh? You consider being impressed but decide you’re not really. Sounds far too flashy. Sounds like this Jack Noir has no sense of style. Not to mention a spirited alternate-self-pat-on-the-back seems like it’d break the poor kid. He’s almost up in tears about it. You tell him you would never do such a thing. You’re down for just good ol’ shooting and stabbing.

YEAH IT TOOK ME ABOUT TWO SECONDS TO REALIZE IT WASN’T YOU. THEN AFTER ANOTHER TWO SECONDS I PROMPTLY DIED, FOR THE FIRST TIME. I’M GLAD YOU NEVER BETRAYED ME AT LEAST.

You may have or may have not had some plans to do that after Regisurp (god, that’s still a dumb name). But you know, now that you mention it, you seem to recall being exiled after Snowman. You mean the queen. You mention this to him, but without the slip-up about her name.

I HAD NO PART IN THAT, SLICK! ALSO I’M GOING TO STOP CALLING YOU SPADES BECAUSE IT’S GIVING ME SOME FUCKING WEIRD VIBES. ANYWAY EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE ACTUALLY KIND OF AN ASSHOLE I STILL LIKED YOU AT THE TIME.

You ask who was involved in exiling you. You’ve suddenly got a new score to settle.

LET’S NOT GET SIDETRACKED FROM WHAT’S REALLY IMPORTANT HERE. I’M DIGGING US BOTH NUB DEEP INTO A SWEEPS-OLD PILE OF SHIT AND WE’RE NOT EVEN SIX FEET DOWN YET. I KNOW DEEP IN YOUR CARAPACE THERE’S LIKELY SOMETHING RESEMBLING A PUMP BISCUIT PUSHING AROUND ALL OF OUR SIMILARLY COLORED BLOOD. SO MAYBE YOU’LL APPRECIATE THAT DESPITE THE STABBINGS I CONSIDERED YOU ONE OF MY FRIENDS.

YOU FOLLOWED ME AROUND FROM PLANET TO PLANET AS I DID MY DUMBSHIT QUESTS AND HAD EQUALLY DUMBSHIT CONVERSATIONS WITH OTHER TROLLS. INCLUDING MYSELF! EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE PROBABLY ONLY FOLLOWING ME AROUND SO YOU COULD KEEP AN EYE ON ME, I GENUINELY ENJOYED YOUR CONSTANTLY LOOMING PRESENCE OVER MY SHOULDER. AND SIMULTANEOUSLY, YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS SUGGESTIONS DIRECTLY INTO MY THINK PAN.

The kid is getting uncomfortably close both physically and emotionally. You hold him off with your knife. You did not make an appointment for this one-sided emotional reunion. It’s almost awkward. He keeps rambling on, moving down the timeline through all the motions. He says it was only about two sweeps ago for him but it was longer for you. Then of course, you got to rewatch your past self follow him around on a screen.

You decide to finally cut him short with a good robot smack to the face. That’ll teach him to spill his feelings onto you. You’re not his personal therapist. When he gets back up, he has those pale red tears in the corners of his eyes. Yeah yeah, go ahead and cry you goddamn pansy.

Then he decides he’s going to go all the way. The tears start streaming down his face and he’s wrapping his arms all around your body. It freaks you out and you drop your knife off the edge of the platform. You’re completely stunned by his antics. You try to shove him off but it’s just not working. Even your metal arm can’t seem to beat the sheer power of an emotional embrace.

Get off me, goddammit, you say. You reach for you knife but it’s long gone now. You curse at him and start hitting the top of his head with your organic hand. He just won’t let go. It makes him cry harder, actually. You look around for some help, as the kid’s sniveling fit has made you the center of attention. None of them look like they’re gonna pry him off anytime soon.

You finally just sigh. Without any of your trusty weapons there’s nothing for you to do here but face the music. The very abrasive, shouting music, in between its sobs. You didn’t miss this endless nonsense with him. You hate his obsession with blood, you hate his self-pitying, you hate his useless stubby horns. You remind him how much you hate him. He knows. He missed you too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did the characters well, first time writing Homestuck fanfic (in 2017?!).


End file.
